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BOOKS
Colonial Cousin
When Yes Minister comes to Dilli durbar
By Ravi Shankar
As
a donor of prototypes, the British Empire has done much for India. Democracy
for one thing, and its accompanying real estate-starting with Lutyens'
Delhi and other colonial power edifices all over. And for those who have
come to inhabit those whitewashed buildings representing the behemoth
which is the government with its millions of incestuous designations,
car pools and Kafkaesque rigmaroles, the Indian Administrative Service
is the phantom of that opera. So it comes as no surprise that the successful
Yes Minister teleseries which once convulsed the British sofa class and
amused Indian televiewers should now get a Hindi avatar. Ji Mantriji,
a rip-roaring television series which is unabashedly based on its Anglo-Saxon
parent, is now a book, told as the diaries of Suryaprakash Singh, a new
minister in Delhi's portals of power.
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JI MANTRIJI
Volume 1
By Alok Tomar Tr by Monisha Shah
Penguin/BBC
Price:
Rs 195
Pages: 223
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What this book unwittingly does is demolish the
image of the Indian politician as a venal, corrupt, power drunk parasite
and shows him, in the form of Singh, as a bemused political animal caught
in a sophisticated zoo run by bureaucrats. Jugran Dayal, cabinet secretary,
remarks that an open government is a contradiction: "You can be open-or
you can have government." Flummoxing the minister at every turn-stymieing
his political adviser Dikshit, embarrassing him in the US computer incident,
seeing that he has no driver or car to take him to a cocktail party as
a result of an austerity drive-Ji Mantriji shows that the real power behind
the throne is the Eternal Bureaucracy, not the ministers who are eventually
"house trained" by the IAS. "Politicians need activity,"
it is explained, "it is their substitute for achievement." Hmmm,
clever.
The
book has quite a lot of activity, and does achieve the desired effect.
A whimsical look at the Dilli durbar, where good intentions pave the road
to a minister's hell full of death threats, a nudist demonstration from
his own daughter who defends monkeys and the staccatto scepticism of his
wife, Chandni. And behind it, omniscient and omnipresent, lurk the figures
of his bureaucrats, Mathur and Kaul, whose triumph lies in the successful
caricature of political power.
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